


No Animals Were Harmed In the Making Of This Proverb

by jenish (phizzle)



Category: Panic At The Disco
Genre: M/M, Polyamory, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-29
Updated: 2006-06-29
Packaged: 2017-10-08 02:20:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/71689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phizzle/pseuds/jenish





	No Animals Were Harmed In the Making Of This Proverb

Spencer was Ryan's first everything.

  
_"How long do you think it would take me to drink a whole can of Mount Dew?"_

_It was one of those summers, the kind you never really believe are real when you've grown up and they don't seem to happen any more. When time stretches like blue bubble gum – it has to be the blue kind, no other stretches like that – and the twirls of it match the sky. They were on their backs in the grass, watching the clouds for shapes._

_Spencer shrugged. "A minute?" he hazarded. He wasn't paying attention._

_"Sixty seconds?" Ryan's nose wrinkled. "I bet you I can do it in twenty."_

_Spencer looked at him, finally. "Twenty seconds?" He glanced at the can in Ryan's hand. "Alright, you're on."_

_"Time me." They sat up, Spencer hovering his finger over his watch, and Ryan popped open the can. The pfzzzt of it opening twisted away into the air._

_"Ready – and – go!" Spencer tapped his watch's side, keeping one eye on the passing seconds and the other on the curve and gulp of Ryan's neck. Rhythmic, slight pause, rhythmic. "Twenty-nine seconds," Spencer announced as Ryan triumphantly held the can out._

_He opened his mouth, turned away, and uttered a sustained belch._

_"Gross," Spencer observed. "And you lost the bet."_

_"So what do you get for winning?" Ryan asked, with the minimum of pout._

_"I get you to brush your teeth, Ryan Ross. Your breath stinks."_

~

It was dark early that day, the kind of dark you can sort of see through. They'd been on their way home, dying to dump their bags and books and pens and just sit and talk and maybe play some music, and then there had been that car backfiring and Spencer had jumped and so had Ryan and it was instinctive, just a gesture.

They'd grabbed each other's hand.

And it hadn't been until four blocks out into the lights later that they'd noticed neither of them had let go.

~

_"Fifteen," he said. "**Fifteen**, Ry, and I've never been kissed." Spencer slumped forward._

_"Well, what about Lisa? You said you'd been on that date," Ryan trailed off. Yeah, because now was just the perfect time to go reminding Spencer of his **last** shitty date._

_Ryan rather felt he deserved the look Spencer gave him. "Fifteen," was all Spencer said. Ryan stared at the table._

_"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I've never been kissed either," he pointed out. Spencer looked at him._

_"True," he said. He paused. "Ryan, how much do you love me?"_

_Ryan's head snapped up. "Wh-what?"_

_"Well, it's just – we could lie about it, say it was a girl, you know, but at least we'd know." Spencer hesitated. "I just want to know," he said, eyes closed, "what all the fucking fuss is about."_

_"So y- what?"_

_"Ryan, have I grown an extra head?" Spencer snapped._

_"No," Ryan replied, feeling entirely stupid down to his fingernails and hair follicles._

_"Then stop looking at me like I have. Shall I spell it out for you?" He traced letters on the table, soundless, mouth moving with the meaning. K-I-S-S M-E._

_Ryan stared at them. He couldn't drag his eyes up, couldn't look at Spencer. He almost, almost didn't move ever again, but then finally a few seconds (lifetime) later, he did. He looked._

_Spencer sighed in exasperation, leaned in, and kissed him._

_"There," he said, leaning back again._

_"I don't think we did it right," Ryan said, surprising himself. "I mean," he amended, "it was only a little … shouldn't it have been, you know. Longer?"_

_Spencer looked thoughtful. "You're right. This should be done properly."_

_This time Ryan wasn't taken by surprise so much, though when Spencer slid his tongue against Ryan's lips he almost yelped. His mouth opened, and there was tongue, and it was kind of awkward and kind of wet and kind of tingly where Spencer's hand was on the back of his neck and kind of nice. Kind of overrated, but still, kind of okay too._

_Spencer leaned back. He didn't say anything. He just nodded._

_They both lied about their first kiss, when anyone asked, and said it was a girl._

~

Seventeen.  
Horny.  
Party.  
Somewhere.  
Anywhere.  
Nowhere.  
Tipsy.  
(Spencer.)  
Couch.  
Alone.  
Spencer.  
Company.  
Snuggly.  
Whispers.  
Half-heard.  
Car.  
Parked.  
Quiet.  
Talk.  
Kiss.  
Comfort.  
Natural.  
Turn.  
Tongue.  
More.  
Press.  
Backseat.  
(Comfort.)  
(_Spencer_.)  
Heat.  
Wetness.  
Scent.  
Fingertips.  
Wanting.  
Kiss.  
Taste.  
Clutch.  
Touch.  
Breath.  
Kiss.  
Sticky.

(_Spencer_.)

~*~

The first time Brendon met Ryan, he thought _Cute kid. Seems nice._

The first time Brendon saw Ryan and Spencer look at each other, he thought, _Oh._ And wanted. Something. He couldn't be sure what, but there was definitely something.

  
The living room was quiet, four boys and a pile of duvets and pillows breathing softly on the floor.

"Ryan." Hissed; no response. "Ryan. Ry. Ryan. _Ryan_."

"_What_?"

"You awake, man?"

"I fucking am now," he grumbled, turning onto his back and staring at the ceiling. Might as well ask, he figured. "Brendon, what do you want?"

"That's the question." Brendon wasn't looking at him. Ryan decided he wasn't likely to stop being frustrating any time soon, and gave up. They stared at the same patch of ceiling.

"Is Spence awake?" Brendon asked at last.

"How the fuck should I know?" Ryan rolled his eyes. "Hey Spencer?" No reply. "Don't you fucking dare," he added as Brendon made to poke Spencer with his toe.

Brendon settled back. "Wanna play some more video games?" he asked after a pause quiet enough for Ryan to almost have drifted back to sleep.

"Brendon, I would like to close my fucking eyes and not be woken up until lunchtime," Ryan answered, turning back onto his side.

"You've got such a mouth on you at three in the morning," Brendon whispered to his back.

Ryan said nothing.

~

"Hey, listen," Spencer said, one night when Ryan and Brent had gone home and Brendon had stayed at 'their' house for pizza, "thanks. I'm glad Brent told us about you."

Brendon looked at him. "What was that for?"

"Just, today. Getting that song down, did you see the look on Ryan's face?"

"Yeah." Brendon was smiling, though he didn't notice it. "Yeah, I saw."

"This band means everything to him." Spencer glanced at his plate. "Means a lot to me, too."

"And me. I'm glad I joined." He stopped. "This is getting kind of girly, want to play a few games?"

"Yes," Spencer said, relieved. "Don't you have to go home, or something?"

Their eyes connected. "Not really," Brendon replied. Spencer sucked his breath in.

"Oh."

"We don't have to – I mean, if I – er, games, let's play." Brendon turned away, a blush creeping up his neck. He tried to hold it down.

They played, and for four levels Spencer sat stiffly next to him, careful for no contact. Brendon felt cold. At the end of the fourth, though, Spencer furiously jabbed at the controls and jumped ahead. "Hah!" he cried. "I'll beat you yet!" He relaxed, punching Brendon's arm.

"Oh yeah?" Brendon broke into a grin and flailed him into a headlock. "How you gonna beat me now, huh?"

"Let me _go_, Urie," Spencer yelled, laughing so hard he dropped the game controls. Brendon ruffled his hair and pretended to tighten his grip.

All sound suddenly cut off, as if something had pressed mute. All except the game. Spencer had gone still, and so did Brendon. "Uh," one of them tried, throat raw.

They broke contact quickly, blushing, turning back to their controls and the game. They played in silence but for a few grunts. Brendon tried to get into it, forget what had just happened, but Spencer's presence near him – near, not next to – was like a silent tower of What? on the edge of his vision.

He left, and "See you tomorrow" was all he said. Spencer nodded.

~*~

It was on their first tour that everything fit.

  
_Smiles, and crowds and pushing, and hanging with the other bands, and Brendon would grab Spencer and say "We've got a fucking **tour**," and Spencer would grin helplessly, and Ryan would be swept up between them both, and one or other of them would start dancing, and soon the three of them would be waltzing, hands and wrists on each other's waists and hands, fingers entwined and somehow it felt perfect and it didn't matter one bit that it was usually two, not three, that did this. A giggle would bubble out of Ryan, and Spencer would bury his face in Ryan's neck, laughing._

~

"So, this is kind of weird," Brent said, staring into the coffee can.

"What? It didn't go green, did it? Does coffee do that?" Ryan peered in to see.

"No, I mean. You three." Brent still wasn't looking at him.

"Wh- us three? What three? Brent, what?"

"You, Brendon, Spencer. Your little club of Touchy Feely Love Boys."

"Our _what_?" Ryan nearly dropped the eyeliner he was holding. "Brent, what. What the fuck did you mean by that?"

"Just, you know. You're all over each other, but you haven't said a word to me, and I figured, you guys are my best friends, and if there's something going on you'd _think_ you would have told me about it." Brent shifted, looked up. Oh. He looked hurt.

"Brent, nothing's." Ryan stopped. "Nothing's happened," he said, voice soft, thinking of the last few nights and the dancing and the way he'd tingled all over on stage until Brendon had finally come over and touched him – nothing major, just brief contact and a look, but. He'd been waiting for it. He'd tingled all the more after it.

"But it might? Or it will? Why won't you guys _talk_ to me about it? It's like you have this whole thing going on and I'm completely left out of it. We're bandmates, Ryan, we're _friends_, don't I at least get to know what's going on?"

"I," Ryan paused. "I'd tell you if I knew."

Brent just looked at him.

~

Ryan was asleep. Definitely asleep. One hundred percent, not going to wake up, will sink into REM at any moment, dead to the world, spark out, not conscious, unresponsive, incommunicado, _fuck off Brendon_.

"You're far too coherent to be asleep," Brendon protested, tugging at his covers. He reminded Ryan of a puppy as he cracked one eye open half way. A very excited puppy who was taking him away from the sleep he had been going to have, bastard.

"Why do you always stop me sleeping?" he mumbled, sitting up with the greatest reluctance.

"It's an elaborate plot for world domination," Brendon explained. "Or at least," he amended, "Ryan domination."

"Yeah? Good luck with that." He made to lie down again, but Brendon redoubled his attack on the duvet. "Brendon, what the _fuck_ do you want?"

"For you to come with me," Brendon replied. At last, a straight answer.

"Where?" _Fucked if I'm going anywhere outside this bus._

"Spencer's bunk," he said. "We're going to wake him up."

Ryan raised his eyebrows. "And then what? Wake Brent too, have a midnight band session?"

"No. Anyway, Brent's gone out. It's just the three of us."

Ryan stared at him. "Gone out? Gone out where? Aren't we meant to be leaving at, like, four in the morning or something?"

"He said he'd be back by then. Anyway, come on!" Brendon made to grab his wrist, but seemed to think better of it. He stroked his knuckles up and down it instead. "Please?" And he pulled out the puppy eyes and oh fuck it, why not? Sleep was overrated anyway.

Ryan followed him across to Spencer's bunk. "No need, guys, I'm already awake," came his voice. The curtains opened. "I'm assuming this is some insane idea of yours, Brendon?"

They settled on his bunk, one either side of Spencer. "Well," Brendon began, "it's not so much my idea as me deciding to bring some things … out in the open, as it were."

"As it – Brendon, what?" Spencer asked. Heart hammering.

"Well." Brendon swallowed. "I kind of, uh." Now it came to it, well. Well. _When telling becomes ridiculous, just show_, he thought, disjointed lesson from somewhere, and leaned forward to catch Spencer's mouth with his own.

Spencer paused, frozen to the spot. They both reached one hand for Ryan at the same time, pulling him nearer; limbs tangled and Ryan was kissing them both at once, and that same laugh bubbled out of him, this time caught by lips and teeth, answering smiles.

"How does this," Ryan breathed, one hand splayed on Brendon's cheek, the other settled on the curve of Spencer's back, "work, exactly?"

"I don't know," Brendon admitted, leaning against Spencer and looking at Ryan. Open. Unguarded. Soft.

"Me neither," Spencer said, running one fingertip over Ryan's jaw. "I remember this," he whispered, moving to kiss Ryan, and his throat shifted. A small sound escaped.

"I remember that too," Ryan whispered when the kiss broke, both with one hand twined with Brendon's.

"You have this," Brendon cleared his throat, "this kind of air about you. You two. And I, um, I want in on that." He looked at his lap.

Ryan and Spencer looked at each other. "We do?" Ryan said.

Spencer looked at Brendon. "You can be in on it. Maybe," he curved half a smile, "you already are."

Brendon nodded. "Yeah. Maybe."

~

That first time was awkward and punctuated by cramped limbs and keeping quiet in case Brent got back in the middle of it and heard them, and fingertips palms sweat lips tongues.

They woke one by one the next morning, motion of the bus almost lulling each back to sleep for a minute. Ryan was half falling out, Spencer was squashed against the wall, and Brendon was sprawled over them. They pushed and sat and stretched, exchanged sleepy smiles.

_Everything's changed_ was Ryan's first thought when he stumbled out and to the toilet at the back of the bus. He looked at himself in the mirror. His hair was sticking up every which way. He decided he liked it.

"We _have_ to get a hotel room for next time," Brendon said as they passed by the door. Ryan smiled.


End file.
